Synthetic Love
by PeachyM00NShine
Summary: AU. Arthur wants a maid/nanny, Peter wants genuine love and attention, Francis wants everyone to be happy, and all Matthew wants is to make it through the day. As for Alfred, he's not sure what he wants, but it would be nice if his master smiled more often. (This may be the first Maid!America fic.)
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

I'd like to thank **sunrise over boston** for beta-reading. Idk if you'll see this but thank you, you are very helpful and I appreciate your advice.

* * *

**Synthetic Love  
****Prologue**

_**Synthetic Biology**_ is a relatively new area of biological research and technology. It combines various fields of science and engineering. At first, synthetic biology was considered as "the field of dreamers". There was nothing profitable to do with whatever knowledge obtained from the study for anything that was practical was not possible.

Then something wonderful happened...

One day Greg Morris took his family to the local bowling alley. Mrs. Morris prattled the whole time saying, "All of the books encourage family bonding in group activities. It's healthy and the children will be less likely to develop criminal behaviors."

Little Christie cooed and entertained herself with her own spit bubbles; and Daniel Morris, who could not have been more than five, grumbled about the baseball game he was going to miss. The home team was playing and he really wanted to go. After all, Dad had _promised_ him! And daddies weren't supposed to go back on their promises. Perhaps if Mr. Morris had taken his son to the game, or if he hadn't have made that promise at all, Daniel's head might have been at the alley instead of the stadium. His hands might have had firmly grasped the ball instead of just lightly cradling it. The ball might have stayed in his grip instead of falling to the ground and his toes might have stayed in tact instead of crushing under the weight and breaking off into a liquid, fleshy goo. (_insert high pitched scream_)

The die hards of synthetic biology are truly grateful for Daniel Morris and his crippled foot; for the boy was the very first one to try out the product that really put their work on the map: artificial limbs.

Yes, if not Daniel someone else would have come along, but considering that the incident was a rather heart-wrenching one and considering that the kid was so cute, his story _had_ to go national, the investors and creators of the first ever biosynthetic partial foot could not have asked for better publicity. It was a win/win situation; Daniel got his toes back and SynTech, the first biosynthetic company, was created.

* * *

The first thing people noticed about biosynthetic limbs was the price. Yes, they were rather expensive. Before they were covered by medical insurance, they used to cost an arm and a leg (yes, that pun _was_ intended), but it was still cheaper (and better) to buy a biosynthetic limb than buy a bionic or cybertronic limb. Seriously, would you rather buy one biosynthetic limb that would last a lifetime (provided that you don't ruin it or that it wasn't a botched job) or would you rather buy a slightly less expensive limb that would require special cleaning/cleaning products, regular updates in both hard and software, and that could be and needed to be detached and reattached?

The most noticable (and most likeable) feature of biosynthetic limbs was the fleshy aspect of it. Unlike other prosthetics, biosynthetic limbs were so real and life-like, people didn't experience the usual amounts of grief and trauma that came with losing a limb!

When the industry was seen as lucrative, SynTech Inc. gained more investors. Pretty soon they were making organs as well; all it took was some chemistry, some robotic engineering, a smidgen of DNA and a quick _ZAP_ of electricity to get a new limb or liver.

And it didn't stop there...

* * *

People were continuously trying to push the boundaries of what was possible with synthetic biology. The first fully synthetic organism made was a brown rat named Syntho Rat 1; it was quite realistic. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your perspective, a secretary walked in while the creation was being presented to investors. The commotion scared the rat and poor, frightened thing ran out to find shelter. Unfortunately the only thing it found was death in the form of five-inch-heels.

* * *

Next came the Syntho Cat and the Syntho Dog. They were a great success in development, in the lab, in testing and marketing research, but several lawsuits halted any further production. (_"We already have a pet population problem, and now you want synthetic pets running about too?! And what about dog fights and cock fights? Wouldn't synthetic animals only encourage such activity?_) SynTech and other (knock-off) companies were prohibited from making domesticated synthetic animals. However, they were very successful in one unexpected market: Primates. There were plenty of people buying chimpanzees and monkeys, mostly for entertainment use; and that was enough to keep hope for synthetic biology alive.

* * *

One boring day at a boring office, there was a terrible shriek coming from the Directing Manager's office. It didn't help that the door was off, preventing any help from getting in, but quick-thinking salesman, Julio Rivera used an emergency axe to break the door down, nevermind that he bloodied his hand breaking the glass to get it out. When he managed to get through to the other side of the now destroyed door, he was greeted with the most disturbing (and yet hilarious) sight of his boss wriggling and writhing in pain as a crudely put together synthetic, human-like _thing _sat crookedly on the floor between his legs.

In the police report the DM stated that all he wanted was to receive the same pleasure as the people on one website featuring syntho "people". "I should fucking sue! The damn thing's defective! It bit off my fucking dick!"

The company responsible for making the creature that the media christened, "Syntho Bobbitt" quickly killed their business. They destroyed any evidence of such a company existing and burned off any paper trails. Their final act of business was to sell their research to SynTech.

The people of SynTech were very grateful for this turn of events...

* * *

A few decades later, the first synthetic humanoid was created, patented, and licensed.

Some decades after that, humanoids were able to be programmed with a range of skills, allowing them to be purchased and used mostly in mining, hazardous maintenance, and a few in extreme medical practice.

It wasn't long before humanoids became were programmed to perform domestic work.

Shortly after, humanoids were made to look more like humans. Androids resembled men while gynoids were made to resemble women.

And of course, it wasn't long before they were made to perform more mature activities...

And why am I telling you all of this?

Well, if it weren't for the strong resemblance of androids and gynoids...

If it weren't for the creation of humanoids...

If it weren't for the Syntho Bobbitt incident...

If it weren't for the expansion in the field of synthetic animals...

If it weren't for the inspiration that came with the death of Sytho Rat 1...

If it weren't for the need of prosthetics and the desire to look human...

If SynTech wasn't created...

If little Daniel Morris hadn't have dropped that bowling ball...

If Greg Morris had only taken his son to a baseball game...

Then Arthur Kirkland would have never met the love of his life...

* * *

**A/N: **In case you didn't know, "Syntho Bobbitt" is a reference to Lorena Bobbit, the woman who cut off her husband's penis.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

*****Marguerite Madison is fem!Canada  
*****Juan Machado is Cuba  
*****Irunya Braginski is Ukraine  
*****Lukas Bondevik is Norway

* * *

**Synthetic Love  
****Chapter 1**

Marguerite Madison's life is out of control. She is twenty-two, a university graduate and for some odd reason, she was a live-in maid and nanny for the ever demanding Mr. Kirkland.

At first, it didn't seem so bad. She thought of it as a vacation from the real world. The first few weeks or so, she felt as if she had stepped into a fairytale land seen only by the privileged few; She would giggle and fancy herself as a modern-day Cinderella getting to know and falling in love with her princely employer. One night, he mentioned a charity event that his law firm expected him to attend. She couldn't help but to imagine putting Peter, his son, to bed and being greeted by a fairy who would gift her with a dress of silver and shoes of gold. They would find each other and dance; him not recognizing her and she too shy to admit her identity. Perhaps her feelings would become too intense and she would run away; in her haste leaving a shoe behind?

Sadly, for Marguerite, that was not the case. She gave up that fantasy when after two months the man still could _not_ remember her name. Still, she continued to live and work in that house. As the days passed and her life became more and more routine, she noticed just how horrible this life was. It wasn't romantic and worthwhile; if anything, it was tiring. She was tired of being invisible to her boss; tired of being disrespected by the child in her charge; tired of being intimidated by Mr. Kirkland's ex-wife; and most of all, she was tired of watching her life go by.

As Marguerite brought Mr. Kirkland's supper to his study, she held a curled fist over the door and told herself, "Today is the day...You can do this!"

* * *

Matthew Williams is a third year law student and is in the top five percentile. Such a celebratory achievement earned him an internship at one of the most prestigious law firms. He had assumed that a _work experience internship_ would allow him to put what he learnt to practice.

But apparently the word _intern_ is synonymous with _office bitch_...

At the moment, instead of doing research for the Weissman case (A settlement is supposed to be reached today!), Matthew was busy hauling coffee, breakfast sandwiches, and bagels through the law firm's lobby. As he cramms into the elevator and presses the 8th floor button, he sighs in relief. "Thank God for Juan Machado!" he thought.

Juan Machado is the usually cheerful manager of The Grind, a local coffee shop and the only coffee shop that would cater to Matthew's daily large order. Every morning, after stopping by the office to get everyone's orders, Matthew would stop by and every morning Juan would be waiting for him at a table not too close or too far from the entrance. They would have a nice chat over a cup of Cuban coffee, "Just to make it through the day." Then Matthew would pay and lift the quite warm box containing the many orders of coffee and foodstuffs and walk back to the office.

The exchange and the small luxury of not having to wait in line always made his stressful day seem a little more manageable.

"Matvey! I was so worried!"are the first words that Matthew hears as he steps onto his floor. A pair of gentle hands guide the burdened intern through the bustling office spaces and into the conference room. Oddly, it was rather peaceful in there. "Why didn't you answer your phone? I have been calling you all morning, the sharks are growing more agitated by the minute!" Irunya Braginski quickly places the orders at the seats of their intended recipients. As the 8th floor receptionist, she was more familiar with the seating arrangement.

Matthew fishes in his pocket for his phone. "Sorry, I had it turned off...Where is everyone anyway? They couldn't have put off today's meeting just because they haven't had their coffee yet, could they?"

"No. Everyone is in a panic because Mr. Kirkland has not shown up yet."

"Maple!" Matthew's phone had several missed calls; some were from Irunya but most were from the other interns. "He's the one leading the Weissman case! If he doesn't get here soon-"

Matthew was cut off by the feeling of being pulled back. Looking up from his phone, he notices that the other lawyers are filing in and Irunya was heading out. He sends a silent thanks to the beautiful receptionist and begins to slink out of the conference room.

There was a reason everyone referred to the lawyers as sharks. They are cold-blooded predators who have a way of making everyone else feel so small and they all thrived on fear. Even now, their collective moods of crankiness and hunger made Matthew want to crawl into a deep dark space and just bury himself.

"I swear, if that prick does not show up in the next quarter-hour..." A frying pan waved through the air as if to finish the threat. Elizaveta Hedervary-Edelstein is not the biggest shark in the tank but she is most definitely the scrappiest. She always manages to have a frying pan on her person and she most certainly will not hesitate to use it; more than once someone needed to fetch the first aid kit for some poor soul that crossed her.

"You do not think he has had some kind of accident do you? Kolkolkol..." Ivan Braginski however _is_ the biggest shark in the tank. He didn't work as much as everyone else, only because he didn't need to. One look at the guy and matters solved on their own; charges were dropped, disputes were settled, and everyone was all too eager to smile and shake hands.

"Well, if he does not show, then the awesome ME will lead you all to victory!"

"Tch! The only thing you will lead us to is bankruptcy..."

"Eh?! You want to say that to my face, Edelstein?!"

"I would if I could tell the difference between your face and your ass!"

Gilbert and Roderich are two sides of the same coin. As different as they are, they are both incredibly successful and incredibly unbearable. It was a stupid idea to have the both of them working on the same floor, but at least they made the firm a much more formidable opponent.

"Hey you...intern," Matthew turns to look into the expressionless gaze of Lukas Bondevik. Lukas isn't very intimidating; he's a man of few words and even fewer expressions, but don't let his shyness deceive you. Lukas is the type of shark that stalks its' prey in the shadows and, when the time is right, goes for a clean and effortless kill. Not to mention, his chilly aura and snarky disposition made you think twice before willingly stepping into his office. "Call Kirkland and see what's keeping him."

Matthew was all too happy to leave the room unscathed. Last time he had been caught in a feeding frenzy, he somehow managed to get roped into running errands and spending the night in local library scrounging around for a book that wasn't even there. Matthew was so absorbed in his thoughts, he didn't even notice the disheveled blond walking in his direction. "Oof! Sorry I-"

"Sorry about that lad. I didn't see you there."

Matthew looks into the piercing green eyes of Arthur Kirkland; the very same Arthur Kirkland whose absence was causing a stir.

"I-it's alright. I w-wasn't paying attention either."

Matthew didn't know if sharks in the ocean had any sort of hierarchy, but as for the sharks of the legal world, Arthur Kirkland is by all means, an Alpha. And although the man is very intimidating, Matthew is particularly grateful that Mr. Kirkland was more-or-less _his_ assigned mentor. Sure, he took instructions from all the sharks, but only Arthur could give him serious assignments and only Arthur was able to evaluate him at the end of each semester. Matthew was also assigned to Mr. Kirkland last year and during that time, Matthew learned a lot about the older man.

For starters, Arthur Kirkland is the most recent addition to the firm. Even though he hasn't been working very long, he has a very impressive record; he has never lost a case or had a settlement end unfavorably for himself. He is known to work on several cases at once, making his schedule very tight. Even so, there is always a high demand for his legal advice and services. Arthur Kirkland is also a stickler for organization and punctuality (which makes his tardiness today rather puzzling). Also, despite his gentlemanly persona, Arthur Kirkland is cynical, sharp-tongued, and prone to violence occasionally.

Yes, there is a lot that Matthew could learn underneath Mr. Kirkland's tutelage.

"Um...Matthew, is it?...There's an important matter I need to discuss with you. Wait in my office and I will be there momentarily." With that said, Arthur hurries into the conference room, not even bothering to see if the intern would do as he was told.

"...Yes Mr. Kirkland."

* * *

The sharks' meeting didn't last very long or, at least, that's how it seems to Matthew. He became so lost in exchanging texts with Irunya, that he did not notice his grave mentor taking the chair of his own office.

Mr. Kirkland sat, not speaking a word, not even acknowledging that there was another person. He hastily wrote, his words filling up an entire page front and back, and then he handed said paper to the intern. "Matthew is it?"

Matthew stared in calm disbelief thinking, "Didn't we just go over this?"

"This is a list of things I need done by the end of the day."

Matthew stared over the writing. "Pick up dry-cleaning...vet...postal office...pick up Peter...This is _your_ to-do list!"

"No, it's my maid's to-do list." Mr. Kirkland didn't even look at him as he spoke; too busy responding to some e-mails. "She quit last night and was out by this morning. _DON'T_ give me that look!...I just need you to put up with me until I hire a new maid. When I do, I'll make sure you're up to your eyeballs in paper work. How does that sound?"

"...I'll see you later, Mr. Kirkland." Matthew trudges dejectedly out of the office. There isn't much on the list but what is on it looks time-consuming and requires more traveling than he was used to in a single day. Matthew had been hoping to do something with his girlfriend tonight, but he now he doubts that he would be up for anything other than relaxing on his couch after running all over the city and baby-sitting Peter. He walks over to the reception area.

"Hetalia International, please hold...Hetalia International, please hold. Oh, hello Matvey! Hetalia International, please hold..."

Matthew takes a pad of sticky notes and a pen. There's no way he'd be able to get a word in while Irunya was on the phone. "_Change of plans._"

"Yes, to whom do you wish to speak?" Irunya reads the note and then covers the end of her phone and mouthes, '_Why?_ _What happened?'_ "I am sorry but he is not here at the moment."

"_Kirkland. Errands._"

"Yes! I will be sure he receives the message." _'Tomorrow maybe?'_

Matthew shakes his head. "_Maid quit. I'm temp maid._"

'_You would look cute as a maid!'_ "Thank you for holding, to whom do you wish to speak?"

Matthew sputters at the mere thought of it. He was surprised she would even say such a thing. "_U 2 close 2 Eliza._"

She giggled. "Yes, I will transfer you through...Phone call on line three Mr. Bondevik. He says he is the 'Danish King'." _'I love you.'_

"_I love you too :)_" He places a chaste kiss on her sweet, succulent lips and waves goodbye as he steps into the elevator. He silently reads his list again and sighs. "I really am an office bitch."

* * *

**A/N: **I'd like to thank everyone that read and reviewed and stuff. You guys are so _BAM_azing!

I should have said this before, but chapter 1 had to be broken up into two chapters. Sorry about that.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Most of the characters mentioned belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. The rest belong to P. L. Travers. Yes, there is a mention of Mary Poppins; more specifically, the Disney adaptation starring Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke, written by Bill Walsh and Don Dagradi, with songs by the Sherman Brothers.

* * *

**Synthetic Love  
Chapter 2**

Arthur Kirkland is a very busy man. He has been busy ever since the wonderful age of nineteen.

_Must maintain grade point average! Must study! Must get a job! Must keep scholarship! Must pass midterm exams! Must pass bar exams! Must! Must! Must!_

The only way Arthur can function is if he keeps himself busy; if he pushes himself to do more; to achieve more. He keeps himself so busy, it's almost as if he is in some other world.

He didn't pay attention to his wife...that's why she left.

He can't pay attention to his son...that's why he needs a nanny.

He doesn't pay much attention to his house (he practically lives in his study)...that's why he needs a maid.

He doesn't pay attention to his maids...that's why they quit.

And now, because of his lack of attention, he will be busier than ever.

"Peter!...Peter! Wake up!" Arthur shakes his six-year-old son awake, even though he himself wants nothing more than to curl in the sheets of his own bed. "Wake up already!"

"Nnng..." Peter opens one bleary eye and rolls over. "Arthur...you jerk." He grumbles. "Get out of my room!"

Arthur scoffs at the pillow that was thrown at him and pulls off the sheets. "Stop your irritating grumbling and wake up! _You_ need to get ready for school, and _I _need to get ready for work." Arthur feels relieved when Peter rolls out of bed, rubbing his bleary, blue eyes. The morning would be so much better if his son would cooperate for once. "Go wash up. I'll iron your uniform."

It is the start of the worst week _ever!_

Peter throws gargantuan tantrums! Every morning he fusses and fights about getting up and getting ready for the day. Arthur has to iron multiple uniforms because the boy would ruin a number of them. Needless to say, this made the laundry more difficult to deal with. He would complain about meals ("Margurite makes pancakes!" "Well...what's-her-name isn't here!" "Give me pancakes you jerk!"). He would scream his adorable little head off and when Arthur tries to take to to school. He would lock himself in whatever room he blindly runs into wailing, "I'm not coming out and you can't make me Jerk Arthur!"

And that's only Peter! Arthur has to deal with other new stresses. Without a maid, the house is a disaster: dishes are piling up and Arthur has to stay up later than usual to clean them, Peter's room looks like a war zone, the laundry room floods with bubbles every time Arthur attempts to use the machines ("_It can't be the machine...something must not be right about the detergent._"), and the rest of the chores simply went ignored.

Also, the change in his schedule interferes with his sleep habits. He misses precious sleep at night and tries (and fails) to stay awake at work. He doesn't get as much work as he wants done and he is grumpier than usual.

The only thing he has to look forward to now, is lunch with the one person he could comfortably call a friend.

* * *

"I'm guessing you have not yet hired a maid."

Arthur raises his head to meet the soft smile of his friend, Kiku. "Sorry, I didn't intend to fall asleep." He wipes a sliver of drool off his chin. It isn't very dignified, but at the moment, he doesn't care. "To answer your question, no I have not. The agency I usually go through has not been very helpful. It seems almost every applicant either doesn't clean, can't cook, or is not qualified to care for children." Arthur groans and rubs the sleep from his eyes as the waitress approaches their table. "Ugh!...Why did she leave me all alone?"

Kiku dismisses the waitress after politely ordering coffee and tea (for Arthur). "Who are you talking about, Arthur-san?" Kiku knows that the latest maid left suddenly and that her absence disrupted the Kirkland house (this sort of thing happened every time a maid left), but Kiku got the feeling that his friend might be talking about someone else.

"Does it even matter?" Arthur asks. He waits until the beverage bearing waitress leaves before continuing. "They all left; and I don't really care whether they stay or go, but I would like to have some kind of warning, a two weeks notice or something. Just give me some time to find a replacement."

Kiku sighs. He slowly sips his coffee and ponders over his thoughts. On one hand, there is something he could do to help his friend; but on the other hand, he isn't sure if he would be over-stepping some sort of boundary. Not to mention, what he wants to propose involves his profession, and he'd rather not make a sale off of his friend; it could end in disaster...Then again, it could help. He sets his coffee down. "Arthur, I have a suggestion for you."

He pulls out his laptop and pulls up a webpage. After shifting his chair around, he positions the computer so that both men can view it.

Arthur glances over the webpage before asking skeptically, "A robot?"

"Not a robot, an android." He types a few keys and some pictures appear. "Robots are bulky and made of metal. Androids have the programming of a robot but the look and movement of a human."

Arthur nods along. "That's right. You work for SynTech." SynTech is the largest and most promising producer of synthetic organisms. They're mostly known for their prosthetics but they're also popular for their synthetic exotic animals and their androids. Arthur has worked a number of cases involving the company (mostly patents and contract disputes) and he knows that the only privately owned androids/gynoids were...well, "Aren't those just walking, talking sex toys?"

Kiku sputters. "W-well...yes, SynTech has a reputation for making the best-ahem...Companion Units...b-but in the case of androids, they mostly design Mining and Maintenance Units." Kiku types in some more keys and this time, gynoids in gray maids uniforms appear. "I design and update the software that makes it possible for androids to carry out a multitude of complex commands. The software is used on Medical Units and Domestic Service Units, or DSUs for short."

"And I can just order one?" Arthur asks skeptically.

"Not exactly," Kiku types in some more keys and a different page comes up. This one had the word "**Customize**" in colorful letters. "You want a DSU for your home that is also qualified for child care, correct? This would require a special learning program and a specific command program that doesn't come with mass produced DSUs; those units are made for hotels and resorts."

Arthur lets the idea mull around. "I don't know about this Kiku..."

Kiku sighs as he puts his laptop away. "That's okay. I don't need a definitive answer at the moment. I was merely suggesting an option."

"Yes...but I'm worried it might be my _only_ option."

* * *

"Hetalia International, please hold...Oh! Mr. Kirkland, you're back!"

As Arthur steps out of the elevator and onto the 8th floor, he is greeted by the busty receptionist his intern is always flirting with. "Hello Ms. Braginski, I'm so sorry for being so cross with you this morning. Are there any messages for me?"

"Yes, Mr. Kirkland! There was a man with what sounded like a French accent. He wouldn't give me his name but he said he knew you personally."

Arthur grumbles thinking, "_Frog-bastard_..." He tries to soften his expression as he addresses the nervous receptionist. "Yes, well, the next time he calls, put him on hold and I'll talk to him...eventually."

* * *

Peter sighs. "The jerk is late...again."

Peter Kirkland has had an especially awful day today. First, Jerk Arthur woke him _way_ too early. Then he had to prepare his own breakfast, not that he really minded. He has prepared a bowl of cereal before but usually the cereal, bowl, and milk are take out for him. Today, he had to gather the ingredients himself, climbing on the countertop to get them which earned him a scolding from his father. (_"Well, how else am I suppose to get the Cheerios?"_) And then, the worst thing happened! Peter had to go to **_school_****!**

School is the most horrible thing ever!...Well, now it is. Last year Peter loved school. That's because last year he was in kindergarten, and kindergarten was amazing! How could anyone _not_ love kindergarten? With two sessions of recess everyday, show-and-tell, snack time, nap time, and treat day? Treat Day was wonderful! Twice a month (or more if everyone was on their "best behavior") their teacher would bring in ingredients so everyone could make a special treat. Nothing complicated that would require baking or using a real knife, just simple food items that every five-year old could handle. Peter's favorite was when they spread peanut butter on apple slices and stuck marshmallows on them. When you put the slices together, they made a cute little mouth that you could eat! Yum! But Peter's favorite part about kindergarten was story time. The teacher would read so beautifully! He told one of his nannies that, but she said it was inappropriate for little boys to have such feelings for their teacher...he never talked to her about school again. Then Margurite came along and he tried to get her to read to him, but she would usually reply with a, "Not now, I'm busy" or, "Not now, it's time for bed" and when she did read, he could barely hear her. It was so annoying! But his teacher wouldn't disappoint him. He didn't care for the woman very much, she smiled weird and spoke funny; like he does whenever he lies. The only time his teacher didn't seem like she was lying was when she read. Her expressions and tones were so _real_ it was like watching a movie!

But Peter is no longer in kindergarten...Now he is in Grade 1 and it is much different than kindergarten. He now has to sit at a desk instead of sharing a table with three of his classmates. There is no nap time, which was fine (_"Naps are for babies!"_). There is absolutely no eating in class and the students are only allowed to play outside once a day instead of twice. That's alright with him too, because instead of having a morning recess, they have fun classes like gym.

But other than that, school is awful! And the evilness of school can only be credited to one person, Ms. Clarkson. Ms. Clarkson teaches Peter's class, and Peter is fairly certain that the woman's sole purpose is to make his life miserable. Everyday she would call on him to read aloud saying he needs the practice. And everyday she would watch him stand up and trip over his words, and when he brings the textbook closer to his face, she scolds him! Then when she thinks his pathetic performance has gone long enough, shes calls him stupid and scolds him for not paying attention (_"But I am!"_) and lets him wallow in misery. Yes, school is absolutely awful!

Peter sighs again. A somewhat familiar creaking sound attracts his attention. "Finally!" He climbs into the old civic and huffs as he fastens his seatbelt. "Take me home Jerk!"

A sigh comes from the driver. "Peter, I'm Matthew, remember? I'm not taking you home, I'm taking you to see your father, remember?"

"I know that." Peter looks over this "Matthew" person. Well, he looks over the back of his head and the area of his face in the rear view mirror (he can't see much from the backseat). Matthew has been picking him up from school everyday for the past week and although the guy is forgettable, Peter always remembers that he does not like him. Matthew reminds him of his father (he does work for the guy) and of his former nanny. Peter likes neither of them, so he must not like Matthew either, right? "But I don't want to go to that stuffy office! Take me home!"

Matthew sighs. This is going to be a long drive.

* * *

It's the end of the day; more importantly, the end of the week. After preparing dinner and drawing a bath for Peter, Arthur sluggishly retreats to his study.

Arthur has never felt so exhausted before; not even when he was a teenager, stretching himself thin at school and work. Not even when he pulled all nighters did he ever feel such weariness as he did now. Using as little energy as possible, Arthur checks his cellphone for messages: voicemail, texts, and e-mail. There is an e-mail from the agency he uses to find a maid, and for a moment he feels joyous relief...Then he actually reads it:

_Mr. Kirkland...we regret to inform you-_

And then he stops after that. He has seen rejection letters before. He has even written a few! He quickly deletes the e-mail, not wanting to read the rest of it. "Well there goes my chance of an orderly house!" he grumbles.

He has anticipated this and has thought about living without a maid. After all, this week does prove that he can manage things on his own. He has gotten Peter up and ready for school everyday. He cooks every meal and cleans (somewhat). He can handle things on his own right?

Arthur sighs. "There is no bloody way I can do this." He stares at his computer, then at his cellphone. "Ugh...I can't believe I'm doing this." He presses number three on his speed dial and waits.

"Moshi moshi, Kiku speaking."

"Hi Kiku, it's me, Arthur...about that DSU..."

* * *

Peter is unhappy. He is usually not happy but at the moment he is unhappy and there is only one thing that can make him feel something close to happy.

_"Oh, it's you! Hello!...Number seventeen Cherry Tree Lane, you say? All right, come along with me..."_

That's right, the only thing that can get Peter out of his unhappy slump is watching the 1964 musical film, _Mary Poppins_. Though he'd never tell anyone, Peter likes musicals; and Mary Poppins is a _Broadway_ musical, which already makes it better than most other movies. In addition to that, it's a wonderful story!...Or at least, what Peter has seen so far is wonderful...He has never seen the entire movie before (It's impossible to stay awake through Julie Andrew's lullabies).

_"A word of advice, young man: storm signals are up at number seventeen. Bit of heavy weather brewing there..."_

Another reason why Peter likes _Mary Poppins_; The Banks family is so much like his own. Nannies are constantly coming and going (_"Good! They're old and mean and stupid!"_), the daddy is a jerk (_"And he works in some stuffy old building too!"_), and the mommy...

_"We're clearly soldiers in petticoats, And dauntless crusaders for women's votes. Though we adore men individually, We agree that as a group, they're rather stupid..."_

Peter doesn't know what to think of Mrs. Banks. If he were asked, he would say that she is much like Danielle; she's there but not really _there_. But at least Mrs. Banks _is _there! Danielle left when Peter was a baby. Now he only sees the woman when she decides to visit...But he doesn't hate her; he doesn't exactly love her, but he doesn't hate her.

_"The children, madam, to be precise, are not here. They've disappeared again..."_

And yes, much like the Banks' children, Peter isn't always on his best behavior. He isn't ill behaved! Oh no! He just isn't the perfect little angel everyone wants him to be (_"And why should I? They're not the boss of me!"_) Jerk Arthur can boss other people around, but not him; he doesn't work for the jerk! The nannies can't boss him around, they're not his mommy! And Danielle can't boss him around, she left! She doesn't want to be his mommy!

But as terrible as the Banks family is, they have one wonderful thing to make the daddy seem like less of a jerk; to fill the void of the missing mommy; to care for and look after those unruly children; a wonderful nanny named Mary Poppins. Peter doesn't have Mary, but he has something just as wonderful and magical. "Oh! Hello! When did you get here?"

Flying Mint Bunny is a wonderful and magical thing. He is always there for Peter, even when no one else is. FMB likes to chat and play and he always knows what to do; but, just like Peter, usually FMB is not happy and sometimes he's unhappy. Today is one of those unhappy days...

"Oh...he ignored you again?" Peter asks. "Hmph! That jerk! He ignores everyone."

FMB flies around Peter's head, rubbing against his cheeks and flashing as he speaks his own strange, music-like language.

"School? It was terrible! What else is new?!"

FMB lands on the little boy's head. "..."

"No, don't worry. I won't stay up past my bedtime."

_"Wanted. Uh, no. Uh, required. Nanny: firm, respectable, no nonsense..._

_A British nanny must be a general. The future empire lies within her hands. And so the person that we need, To mold the breed, Is a nanny who can give commands._

_You getting this, Winifred?"_

"Bleh! That's the kind of nanny that Arthur hires!"

"..."

"Yeah, Margurite was nicer, but I still didn't like her!"

"...?"

"She wouldn't read to me! She wouldn't play with me!...She was a little boring, I forgot about her sometimes. And she always acted like...like...like she didn't _like_ me...like she didn't want to be around me..."

Flying Mint Bunny kisses his forehead and flies into Peter's arms for a cuddle.

Peter holds his friend. "Yeah, I love you too. Ooh! This is one of my favorite parts!"

_"Wanted: a nanny for two adorable children."_

_"'Adorable' well that's debatable, I must say."_

_"If you want this choice position, have a cheery disposition. Rosy cheeks, no warts. Play games, all sorts. You must be kind, you must be witty. Very sweet and fairly pretty. Take us on outings, give us treats. Sing songs, bring sweets. Never be cross or cruel, never give us castor oil or gruel. Love us as a son and daughter And never smell of barely water..."_

"That would be a nice kind of nanny, don't you think so Mint Bunny?"

_"If you won't scold and dominate us, We will never give you cause to hate us. We won't hide your spectacles so you can't see, put toads in your bed, or pepper in your tea. Hurry nanny, many thanks, sincerely, Jane and Michael Banks"_

"I wish I could have a nanny like Mary Poppins...but I can't write very well and we don't have a fireplace to put letters in..." Peter sits in silence and watches the movie.

Mary Poppins had just landed when, lo and behold, Jerk Arthur comes in to ruin everything! "Peter, it's late..."

"So?" is the only reply given.

"Peter, go to bed. I've had a pretty rough week and I don't feel like dealing with any tantrums right now."

"Hmph!" Peter sticks out his tongue but figures that he should listen. After all, if Arthur is going to bed, then that means all of the lights are going to be turned off and Peter doesn't want to sit in the dark. "Fine...I was getting sleepy anyway."

Once again, Peter is not able to watch the entire movie.

* * *

After bidding Peter goodnight, Flying Mint Bunny flies downstairs, through the kitchen and out the cat flap. He didn't tell Peter, but earlier, when he had been trying (and failing) to get Arthur's attention, FMB overheard a very strange conversation. Apparently, Arthur was fed up with human maids and was going to try his luck with something called an gynoid. But from what FMB heard, the man was going about it the wrong way! This house, and everyone in it, are miserable. That's why all of the other fae creatures left! And with what Arthur is planning, he is certain that the Kirkland house would go from miserable to depressing or angry and violent. No! Someone needs to do something. Someone needs to interfere; and someone needs to come up with a plan to reunite father and son and make the house happy again.

And that someone is going to be Flying Mint Bunny.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters, nor do I own a certain book mentioned.

* * *

**Synthetic Love  
Chapter 3**

SynTech is a very efficient corporation. With a top-notch security system and an air-tight organizational structure, you are guaranteed to have your order made to your satisfaction and delivered within five to twenty-five days, depending on the order.

When an order is placed, one of the district managers is alerted. He or she communicates with the Purchasing Manager, who communicates with his or her staff to make sure the purchase can go through. Then a Manufacturing Manager is alerted to either start production or check their stock. With so much communication, supervision, and inspection there is a one in a million chance of ever receiving the wrong order.

Which is why Arthur doesn't suspect a thing when he opens a package from SynTech Inc...

* * *

Two weeks have gone by with no maid and no DSU. That's right, Arthur ordered one. He called his friend Kiku, not wanting to waste time with trivial matters of it. ("_I don't really care how it looks or acts, just as long as it can cook, clean, and take care my son; preferably instilling discipline in him as well._") He was told that it would take some days before his unit came, which he wasn't very happy about, but he couldn't complain about it either.

It is now Monday. Arthur has spent the entire weekend and most of his morning cleaning and doing laundry; there is still a load of Peter's uniforms tumbling about in the washing machine. He made tea and had been hoping to spend the afternoon outside or in the conservatory, but he is too tired to even leave the kitchen! And as if that isn't bad enough, he also has to suffer through a conversation with his most loathsome foe.

"Really, I am terribly sorry, Francis." He says into the receiver of his telephone. "I meant to call but I've been so busy lately, it must have slipped my mind." His lips curl into a smile as he thinks about the torture he had put the Frenchman through. For days Francis would call, and everyday he would put the frog on hold with absolutely no intention of answering. He could put him on hold now, but that would be rude. "So, how was your trip with Jeanne?" he asks, shuddering at the name.

"Ah yes! It was quite the holiday. So much to see, so much to do, too bad we never left our hotel! Ohonhonhon~...But why do you ask? Did you miss your big brother that much, _Sourcils_?"

Arthur sputters, his face reddening deeply. "NO!" His face heats even more when he hears that absurd laughter on the other end of the line.

"Ohonhonhon~ D'accord, mon petit frere. There is no need to feel jealous or left out. I will make sure to spend plenty of quality time with you to make up."

"As if! I don't want to be anywhere near you, _frog_! Why don't you-"

The doorbell rings.

Arthur loses his train of thought as he ponders the identity of whoever stood on the other side of his front door. He _really_ doesn't want to get up but he cannot let the door go unanswered. "Ugh...I need to go. Don't expect this conversation to continue." He hangs up, not bothering to hear whatever Francis had to say, and drags his weary body to the front door. "Yes, yes, what is it?"

Standing in the doorway, dressed in a grey uniform is an exhausted courier. He is hunched over, red in the face, and panting as if he had ran a marathon; and Arthur wants nothing more than to kick the portly git off of his property. He is tired, stressed out, and in a rather foul mood thanks to Francis. The last thing he wants to do at the moment is cosset a stranger.

"Pah...pah...package for...Mister Kah...Kirkland."

Arthur looks past the courier. There is a desperate looking dolly covered with tape; its' wheels caked with dried mud and grass. At the sight of it, all Arthur could think was, "Bollocks! I just cleaned these floors!"

Arthur face-palms at the thought of mucking up his floors again. "Yeah, bring it in."

Apparently the crate puts a great amount of stress on the dolly. The courier became a panting, perspiring mess as he struggles to push it. Arthur guides the courier inside, offering whatever assistance he can by moving furniture, making sure that the crate stays secure, and giving a push or pull when needed. With their combined effort, the crate is able to make its' way to Arthur's study. It is only then that Arthur notices the fine print on the crate. Just underneath "**this s↑de up**" is the logo he thought he would never see, a double-helix underlining "**SynTech Inc.**".

* * *

Arthur could not get the courier out fast enough! As soon as the crate is off the dolly and lying down on its' proper side, he practically shoves the man to his truck, and he is pretty sure he misspelled his signature. But that doesn't matter! His DSU finally came! No more dirty dishes! No more mountains of laundry! No more taking time out of his hectic schedule! No more-

Once again, Arthur loses his train of thought. For laying down in the crate, surrounded by and covered with packaging peanuts is...well...

* * *

"Attention! All passengers with business class tickets are now free to board the cabin."

Kiku puts his laptop away and grabs the handle of his carry-on bag. After making sure his that ticket has the same gate number as the terminal ("_Just to be sure._"), he quickly boards the aeroplane so that he would not keep the other passengers waiting. Kiku doesn't know what to think of the business class section. He is happy and grateful to be able to work while in the sky, but at the same time, the seats are for too spacious for his liking. It makes him a little uncomfortable to have so much room and little to nothing to do with it. Then again, economy class is so crowded. Sure he'd have enough space, but there is a high probability that he would have to share that space with two, three, or maybe even four other people. What if they are sick?! What if they are disgusting and dirty?! What if he had to sit amongst impolite and bothersome children!? Or worse...what if he had been forced to sit next to a woman reading _50 Shades of Grey_?! Kiku shudders. "Never again..."

Kiku is jolted from his thoughts as _Hare Hare Yukai_ blasts from his pants. The sudden noise startles him and draws the attention of a scary looking stewardess. His first thought is to appease the obviously stressed out woman and turn off his cell phone, ignoring the call; but what if it's his boss? What if it's a client? What if it's one of his more responsible siblings calling to inform him that Yong Soo, their baby brother, has finally succeeded in burning down their father's house? He _needs_ to answer! And if the stewardess with the over-the-top smile and stone cold stare doesn't like it, he will apologize later.

Without looking at the caller id ("_What if it's an emergency?_"), he answers. "Moshi moshi, Kiku speaking..."

"Hello Kiku...What are you up to?"

Kiku removes the cellular from his ear to look at the caller id. He has an idea of who was on the calling end, but because of the awkward sounding voice, he wants to make sure. He puts the phone to his ear again and answers calmly, "Arthur-san, I am on a plane that is scheduled for take off in twenty minutes. If you have something to say, say it now."

"Oh!...um...That DSU thing came today..."

Kiku takes a moment to think about why Arthur would call to say that, and why he sounded so unsure. "Is the unit damaged?"

"No"

"Is there anything missing? The instruction manual maybe?"

There is a faint rustling sound followed by, "No. Everything is here."

"Is something wrong with the programming? Is the unit unresponsive?"

"I've not turned it on yet."

"...Do you know how to turn it on?"

"W-what's that supposed to mean?! I am bloody well capable of turning on a _machine_!"

Kiku has to take the phone away from his ear again. Although he knows that Arthur's technological skills are only a little better than his culinary skills, he doesn't think it would be very polite to mention that. He places the phone against his ear again. "Then what's the problem?"

There is silence for a moment.

"It's not what I was expecting..."

Kiku let the words and their implied meaning sink in. "Forgive me if I am mistaken, Arthur-san, but did you not say that you wouldn't care about looks or even behavior?"

"W-well, yeah...but I was expecting one of the models from the website. N-not that I care or anything..."

"Ah! I see," Kiku says. He thinks back to that day at the cafe when he had suggested to Arthur the idea of replacing his maid with a DSU. "Those models are made for hotels, spas, and resorts. It would be illegal to use their likeness for a privately owned DSU."

"Oh..."

"Sir, I'm afraid you need to turn off your phone. We're about to taxi."

Kiku looks up into the icy stare of the scary stewardess. Her smile has gone from over-the-top to psychotic during his conversation with Arthur; it takes all of his energy and focus to repress the urge to shiver. "Hai, I will turn it off momentarily." He waits until she left before saying, "Arthur-san, I need to go. I'll be out of the country for a few days but if there are any problems with the unit feel free to call me."

* * *

"I will. Have a safe flight, Kiku." Arthur presses the end call button and sighs. The DSU is still laying in the open crate looking more like a corpse than a gynoid...or android...It's rather puzzling.

Arthur understands that gynoids are supposed to resemble women, but this DSU...

Something seems off about it.

With his hands, Arthur sweeps aside the packaging peanuts on top.

_Short amber waves of hair..._

As he removes packaging peanuts from the DSU's face, his hand accidentally brushes against a cheek. He quickly retracts.

_Flawless, soft skin...Round, rose-tinted cheeks...It's a little cold though..._

Arthur's face becomes flushed. He wants nothing more than to touch that cheek again, just to see if it really feels that way or if it was his imagination. "Not that it really matters; it's just a machine."

He pushes aside his thoughts and quickly brushes off the remaining packaging peanuts, becoming increasingly flustered as he does so. It doesn't take long for Arthur to uncover the rest. What he sees is surprising; not exactly a good surprise and not exactly a bad surprise. It's one of those puzzling, confuse-you-into silence kind of surprises.

Perfectly visible inside the open crate lies a DSU clothed in a pink, long-sleeved, mid-calf lengthed dress with a white turn down collar, cravat, and apron. Adorning honey wheat hair is a matching headdress that's slightly askew from the travel. Clasped around disproportionately small feet are a pair of cream coloured mary janes and from what Arthur could see, the unit is also wearing white tights. It's a cute ensemble; feminine and professional looking. But the unit itself looks a little peculiar. Instead of long hair and perky breast, the hair is short and a little mussed, the shoulders though rounded and soft-looking are broad and the chest is flat, suggesting the appearance of a man. Yet the youthful face, long legs, small waist and notably curvy hips that made an attractive hourglass-like shape ("_Not that I really care. I mean, it's only a machine._") suggests a female body. If Arthur didn't know any better, he'd say that it was a _man_ dressed as a woman!

Arthur shakes the idea out of his head. "That's absurd! Kiku wouldn't give me a crossdresser. Maybe he designed it after whatever anime girl he's currently fangirling over?"

Then, he sees it. Arthur takes in a detail so small and trivial, it would have been over looked if he hadn't have been studying the unit so intensely; a smile. It's small and charming; so innocent and genuine without a trace of spite or smugness. It does not hide any mischief. It is not coy, flirtatious, or teasing, but it is warm and inviting; and for a moment, Arthur forgets that this is an android he was looking at. He feels drawn to those naturally grinning lips for some reason (_"How long has it been since I've seen someone honestly smile in this house?"_). He wants to trace those lips with his thumb and find out if they were as warm as the smile, but before he could get lost in those thoughts, reality crashes into him in the form of an alarm.

Arthur looks at his wristwatch. "Bloody hell! I'm going to be late!"

Pushing away thoughts of the cute ("_It's just a machine!_"), gender-ambiguous Domestic Service Unit, Arthur runs out of his house. Peter will be dismissed from classes soon, and Arthur had promised to pick him up. After all, Matthew ("_That is his name right?_") does deserve a break from that at least.

When the lights are turned off, when the doors are closed, and after the familiar sound of Arthur's fiat peeling out of the driveway, a rustling sound comes from the crate. Up from the sea of packaging peanuts comes the fuzzy and green head of Arthur's long forgotten friend, Flying Mint Bunny. In his strange language of bells, whistles, and indescribable melodies, he talks to the dormant creation; to the synthetic human made by the wonders of technology. Sure he could get in trouble; and yes, it was a hasty decision followed by a plan that wasn't completely thought through, but something needed to be done! FMB couldn't just idly sit by and watch his family sink further into the depths of dysfunctionality. No! Someone or something needs to actively bring the Kirklands closer together, and _obviously_ it wasn't going to be FMB.

He flies to the android's head and smooths out the hair (The ride over was rather bumpy.) When he is satisfied with the strands, he kisses the android's forehead and in a musical voice, he sings out, "Alfred~"

* * *

It has been a little over half an hour since Kiku's conversation with Arthur. He had been hoping to get some work done during the flight, but ever since take off, he finds himself thinking about the DSU he personally designed for Arthur more often than working.

At first he was going to use the same model design of the sample units created only to show potential investors and clients what they were capable of, but then his sister, Mei Mei, found out and she just _had_ to but in.

Kiku exits out of his business e-mail account and pulls up the picture of the DSU he designed with his sister's help: A cute gynoid with long, dark brown hair put back in a ponytail and beautiful golden eyes. Kiku had programmed her to be headstrong, skillful and very adaptable to handle any and every situation. Mei Mei had named her "Lien"and Kiku was very happy with how she turned out; but ever since that conversation with Arthur, all he could do was worry if he had done something wrong. Maybe a cute asian unit would be too distracting or maybe her personality would be too stressful to deal with. "I knew I should have gone with the sample units' design."

Kiku closes his laptop and puts it away. "Hmph! That's the last time I listen to Mei Mei."

* * *

Meanwhile, at a cute wooden stilt house, Kasem Chao rushes to answer his door. Whoever is there must have an emergency; why else would they ring the doorbell in such an obnoxious manner? "Yes, yes, what is it?" Normally Kasem is very polite, but after spending the weekend and most of his day ("_My one day off!_") cleaning, he is tired, stressed out, and in desperate need of Pad Thai. The last thing he wants to do at the moment is cosset a stranger.

Standing at the doorway, dressed in a grey uniform is a pissed off courier with a large crate and a Delivery Information Device. He inhales sharply and asks, "Package for Mr. Chao?"

Kasem glances over the crate. It's tall, obviously heavy and just underneath "**this s↑de up**" is a logo he never expected to see, a double-helix underlining "**SynTech Inc.**". "SynTech? I never ordered anything from SynTech."

The courier huffs in annoyance. "Look pal, I don't take orders, I only deliver them. Now, I need you to sign for this." He says, shoving the Delivery Information Device into Kasem's face.

Kasem takes the Delivery Information Device and signs on the screen with the electronic pen. "What is it anyway?"

"Like I said," the courier growls out. "I don't take orders, I only deliver them." Then he takes the crate inside and rushes out before Kasem has the chance to refuse.

Kasem, now alone in a house smelling of burning Pad Thai, stares at the crate. "Well...this is not what I was expecting."

* * *

**A/N:** I didn't want to say it earlier because I didn't want to spoil anything.

*Yong Soo is S. Korea  
*Mei Mei is Taiwan  
*Lien is Vietnam  
*Kasem Chao is Thailand

If you need help picturing Alfred, click on the image thingy on the top left corner of your screen.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

**Synthetic Love  
Chapter 4**

"You big dummy! I can't believe you forgot to pick me up!"

Arthur groaned. He had to listen to this and several variations of it during the car ride back home. He wasn't supposed to be late; he really did try to be there on time, but in his hurry to get to Peter's school, he had been pulled over by a policeman and given a ticket for speeding.

"For the last time, I did _not_ forget! Something came up."

Peter glowers. "Tch! Something always comes up!"

If Arthur wasn't so busy thinking about all that has happened and all that he needs to do, he might have noticed the hint of sadness in his son's voice. Instead, he wondered if the clothes in the wash were already clean and if he should even bother with the dried mud on the floors (_"Damn courier..."_). He turns to the direction of his study. "Oh yeah...I almost forgot." He covers the blush that forms from thinking about his new _employee_. "Peter, about your nanny..." Arthur takes a deep breath as he thinks about his next words. "Starting tomorrow, your nanny will be the one looking after you and I expect you to be on your best behavior. This one will be with us for a long time."

Peter nods along. It's the same speech given whenever a new nanny shows up. "Where is she?"

"W-well, she-it-I-I don't- um..." Arthur stammers. His brain synapses have a moment of cease fire as he thinks back to his afternoon with the powered off, gender-ambiguous _thing_ in his study. "Did your teacher give you any homework?"

"I don't want to do homework. It's hard!...Can you help me?"

Arthur sighs. "You're a big boy Peter; and big boys complete their homework assignments by _themselves_." Arthur says and he gently nudges Peter in the direction of the stairs. "Besides, I'm too busy with my own responsibilities. You'll understand when you're older."

Arthur pretends not to notice the sound of little feet stomping as loud as they can and strolls into his study. The DSU is still lying there, in its crate, waiting for him. (Is it just him, or does the hair and headdress look a bit neater?) Near the head of the unit, buried under styrofoam peanuts and taped to the crate, right where he was told it would be, is the Owner's Manual. It's smaller than what Arthur is expecting. He sits in his chair and reads:

_Hello sir/madam  
Thank you for purchasing a_ customized _Domestic Service Unit from SynTech Inc.  
Printed below you will see..._

Arthur skims through the first few pages. There isn't much to see; some safety instructions printed more so for liability issues than for safety concerns. ("_Most of these are warnings against doing something that no intelligent person would even consider doing anyway._") There is some warranty information that he was already familiar with; and there is some information about service locations, customer service telephone numbers and the website. Finally, he comes across the first page of useful information.

_**Assembly Instructions**  
Your unit should arrive assembled and ready to be charged, if not, call the number provided and we will take care of the problem. Even if your unit seems to be intact, please take your time to inspect it and make sure _everything _you ordered_ _has arrived, including but not limited to: cables, installation disks, clothes, and accessories..._

Arthur approaches the crate. No doubt "everything" is lying in the sea of styrofoam, underneath the DSU. So to minimize the awkwardness of the situation, Arthur decides to take the unit from the crate and move it to the settee on the other side of the room. First, he kneels down and slides one arm under the legs; his fingers curl around the lower thigh on the other side. Then Arthur uses his other arm to lift and support his (_"Her! Her! It's a female!"_) back. Unfortunately, in his effort to avoid one awkward and embarrassing situation, Arthur realizes that he has created another one when the android's head nestles against his chest; and the world is turned upside down!

At first, the only thing he can feel is heat; an un_bearable_ heat that ignites at his cheeks and flares throughout his body. His heart pounds in his ears, deafening him to all other sounds. His synapses refuse to function properly; sending waves of electricity to every muscle, every organ, and through every layer of the epidermis. His hair even stood on end because of it! Out of instinct to hide his flushing face, he ducks his head down and into-

_...such soft, beautiful hair..._

"HAH!" He raises his head to the cool air above, gasping and wheezing to cool down and steady his heart. "Bollocks! What's wrong with me?" It takes a few moments for his breathing and thoughts to stabilize. When he is calm and no longer red in the face, he gazes across the room and puts all of his focus onto one thing: the settee. "Okay Arthur, it's just a machine and it's not even on. There's no need to feel flustered or abashed." He held the android closer, ignoring the sudden arrhythmia of his heart, and once again focused on the settee. "On the count of three: One...Two...Three!"

Arthur stands up and immediately topples over. The weight of the android (and accidentally tripping over the crate he forgot about) almost sends him crashing to the floor, but he manages to catch himself and the android at the last minute. Standing as best as he can, pigeon-toed and slightly hunched over, he knows that there is no way he can make it across the room, and instead opts to settle the unit onto his office chair. He drags himself back to the crate and fishes around for the less strenuous contents. There isn't a terrible lot; just some clothes, shoes, some bundled cords, and a case containing two disks.

Arthur looks to the android. "It's a good thing h-_she_ is next to my computer." He grabs the owner's manual and, after a quick detour to the table of contents, he turns to another page.

_**Installation Instructions  
**__All SynTech customized units are compatible with-_

"Blah, blah, blah..." Arthur skims through the first few pages. They mostly are about the android's "brain": the CPU; how advanced it is, how is works, the amount of RAM and ROM and the difference between the two. Most of it he can't understand, but whatever information sticks out, he tries to commit to memory and then finally he finds what he is looking for.

_To install program and personality files, first connect your unit to your PC via USB cable. (See page XX)_

Arthur turns back some pages.

**_Charging Instructions  
_**_In order to keep your unit healthy and functioning properly, there are three charging methods that you __**must **__follow._

_1) CPU- the CPU acts as the brain of your unit. It is located in the cranial region and can only be accessed through a USB cable. There are two UBS cables. One is for transferring information between units; you can identify it by its' comparably shorter length and smaller receptacles. The second is for charging and transferring information between unit and computer; you can identify it by its' comparably longer length and differing sizes of receptacles. For optimum efficiency, the CPU ought to be recharged every 5 to 7 days..._

After reading over the rest of the paragraph, Arthur grabs the proper cord and plugs the larger end into his computer. He then approaches the DSU, still sitting in his chair, and examines one of the ears. According to the manual, there are USB ports located on either side of the head. He gently tugs the ear lobe, causing it to fold into the ear canal, and then the entire outer ear moves a few degrees down, revealing a small USB port. Arthur slides the receptacle in and-

"Ding!" He-(_"She!"_) is connected!

"Hmph! And Kiku thought I couldn't even turn the thing on. Ha!"

Arthur continues to read.

_2) The Robotic Structure- Your unit's skeletal and nervous systems are completely robotic and require electricity in order to run. The spine and base of the skull also function as a battery and must be recharged every 16 to 24 hours for 6 to 8 hours, depending on activity. To charge your unit's battery, first locate your unit's power cord. Insert the three-pronged end into the nearest available wall socket and insert the single-pronged end into the epidural space located on the back of the neck..._

Arthur follows the instructions given.

As if a response to the energy coursing through its' body and storing in its' battery, the android proudly sits erect; but its' smile disappears, giving it a blank look.

"...That's creepy."

Arthur returns to the manual.

_3) Biosynthetic Organs- The remaining systems of your unit are made out of SynTech's patented _synth-organic matter_. Much like organic matter, it requires metabolic fuel to function properly. The best way to supply your unit with metabolic fuel is to feed-_

"Oh shit! I have to prepare dinner!"

Arthur, completely forgetting about the android, immediately jumps up and rushes to the kitchen. In his haste, he accidentally kicks something small, square, and plastic...

* * *

Upstairs, Peter sits on his bed and stares at his homework. There isn't much, just a worksheet with some simple addition problems.

Peter likes math more than reading. Numbers are much easier to work with. Twos are twos. Nines are nines. Sixes are sixes. And two fives always make ten! But with letters...

Letters and words are awful! Some words are nice and easy like "cat", "rat", and "bat", but some words are weird and long and hard to spell. Also, unlike numbers, letters don't always sound the same. "Three" always sounds like "three" but sometimes a "c" is like, "_sss_" and other times it's like, "kah" and when you put an "h" behind it, it makes a "cha" sound. (_"Stupid letters! Make up your minds!"_)

Peter is almost done with his homework when he hears a very familiar sound. "Flying Mint Bunny!" He jumps off of his bed (_"Take that, Jerk Arthur!"_) and runs to his door to greet his magical friend. "Where have you been? I missed you."

He smiles.

Flying Mint Bunny flies into the room, twinkling and speaking so animatedly. Peter wonders if this is what he's like when he is happy. "Yeah, I'm glad to see you, too! But where were you?"

"..."

"Business? What business do you have? I thought you said that no one but me and Arthur could see you."

"..."

"He _can_ see you! He's just ignoring you, like the stupid meanie he is."

"..."

"Okay. Nothing's new." Peter walks back to his bed and flops on it. "School stinks and Arthur got me a new nanny."

"..."

"No. I've not met her yet. Did you see her?"

"..."

Peter snaps his head up; his face perfectly portraying bewilderment. Then, he laughs. "Hahahahaha! That's silly Mint Bunny! Arthur would never hire a _boy_ nanny! Hahaha!"

"..."

"I still think that that's silly." Peter picks up his homework and continues where he left off. "Did you see him?...Is he nice?"

"..."

Peter nods. He doesn't understand everything Flying Mint Bunny says, but he tries to follow along. "Do you...do you think that...maybe he will- I dunno...like me?"

Flying Mint Bunny glows and sings as he flies around Peter's head, kissing and nuzzling his cheeks and forehead.

"No! You're my best friend."

"..."

"What's that supposed to mean, Mint Bunny?"

"..."

"I don't understand..."

Before Flying Mint Bunny can retaliate, a voice that is both reassuring and irritating to Peter invades their atmosphere. "Peter! Wash up and come downstairs! It's time for dinner!"

Peter runs out of his room and stands at the top of the staircase and shouts, "Shut up, Jerk Arthur! You can't tell me what to do!"

"Peter, I will not argue with you! Wash up and come downstairs!"

Even though he knows Arthur won't see him, Peter still feels the need to stick out his tongue. "Hmph! Stupid jerk." Nevertheless, he does indeed wash his hands in preparation for his awaiting meal. On his way to the washroom, he passes the orange and white Scottish Fold with the odd eyebrows and strange temperament. "What are you looking at?"

* * *

Later, sometime around the witching hour, Flying Mint Bunny is in the arms of a sleeping Peter with nothing to do but think and wait. He looks around Peter's room. It is not the kind of room a normal little boy would have. A boy's room is usually simple and disorderly: a collection of action figures on display, some toy cars littering the floor, some comic books here and there, maybe a poster or two, the bed is made but wrinkled from jumping and rolling around on it; but Peter has an amazing room. His bed looks like a ship, his walls are painted to look like the sea and sky, his toybox is made to look like a treasure chest, and he even has a little crow's nest; but it always seems so empty, so devoid of life. It looks more like a photograph in a catalogue than a boy's bedroom.

Flying Mint Bunny has seen many things happen in this very room: a newlywed couple painting the walls robin egg blue; a tired and desperate father-to-be putting a crib together whose only comfort was his wife bringing him a cup of tea and conversing with yours truly; parents crying while trying to comfort their newborn baby; said baby crying out in the hope that somebody, _anybody _(or at least anyone human), would be there for him; and that same baby, now a few years older, still reaching out for human contact.

There are also many things that Flying Mint Bunny has dreamt of seeing in this very room: a family happy for a change; Peter nodding off to slumberland in the arms of his loving father; Arthur teaching his son how to tie a tie and giving him advice about the adolescent ritual known as "prom"; Peter putting on his ceremonial garbs for for another ritual called "graduation" as Arthur takes a few awkward, I'm-so-proud-of-you pictures; and the two of them (hopefully the _three_ of them) sharing a tearful goodbye when Peter moves out as a man.

But the time for reflecting and dreaming is now over. Flying Mint Bunny removes himself from Peter's arms. He flies to Peter's head, which is resting on Peter's favorite pillow. It's has a big red triangle, a smaller black triangle, and a diagonal white stripe between the two. (It reminds him of a certain flag...) Flying Mint Bunny nuzzles Peter's cheeks and whispers a soft goodbye. He is not brave enough to wake the boy up for a real one.

The curtains billow outward even though the window isn't open and that strange cold wind machine isn't on. A light flutters in; it's close to blinding for a moment but soon the light fades to a soft glow and a little fairy is left standing in its' wake. She's a little doe-eyed looking thing, dressed in blue with a sad soft smile. She looks around the room before resting her gaze on Flying Mint Bunny. "It is time. Are you ready?"

Flying Mint Bunny isn't sure how to answer the question. On one hand, he knows what needs to be done yet on the other hand, he _really_ doesn't want to go. Peter is going to need him over the next few days...or weeks...or longer. Before he can give an answer though, a loud **"FUCK!"** comes from downstairs and quells his hesitation. It's not about him or how he feels; it's about the Kirklands.

He kisses Peter's forehead, silently wishing the best of luck and a lifetime of happiness, knowing that there is no certainty of his return. He then joins the fairy and the two of them fly off into a sea of stars...

* * *

Meanwhile, downstairs...

Arthur has spent the most of the night figuring out how to start up his brand new DSU. He has read the manual (barely) and as it charges, he has been installing virus protection programs, and some command security features; the only thing remaining are the personality files. Arthur really didn't see a point to them, but Kiku did design the thing and it would be rude to toss the custom-made programs aside.

Even so, nobody told him how long it would take for the damn things to download and, without anything to actually do, Arthur has fallen asleep. It is the deep sleep of the dead, if anyone had been around to observe, they would say that it would be impossible to wake him. He does not stir. He does not dream. Even his eyes are perfectly still beneath heavy lids. However, he is aroused from his heavy slumber by a sharp and sudden-

**"DING!"**

"I'm awake! I'm awake! I'm- oh..." Arthur stares at his computer screen. At first he can only see a jumbled mess of squiggles. Maybe it's because he just woke up. Maybe it's because the screen is ridiculously bright. Maybe it's because of the ridiculous hour; but for some reason, it takes a few moments for his brain to make out what his computer is trying to tell him.

**_ERR!_**  
_System corrupted! Unable to complete data transfer!_

"**FUCK!**"

Arthur throws himself out of his chair (He brought one in from the dinning room.). He presses his face against the warm flat screen of his PC as if there's a different message or a "lol jk (:P)" hidden within or between the letters. Unfortunately, there is no such thing; just the same warning every time he refreshes the page. Arthur sighs. He rubs his eyes and grumbles curses under his breath as the same thought runs through his mind, "What now?"

Then, he asks another question. "Can I still use my DSU?" It is plausible. (_So what if some files weren't installed! It's not as if the thing is broken._) Arthur sits back in his chair and vigorously types away. A few clicks and some keystrokes later, he is able to see what files have been installed and what files are missing.

"Ah! This doesn't look so bad."

Everything important is there: virus protection, security and command recognition programs, and of course vitality files and the special learning program. There's only one file icon that has a small "warning" sign next to it; the personality file. Arthur exits out of the screen and ejects the disk. Bringing it closer to his face, he can make out a long and thin scratch along the reflective underbelly of it. "How did...oh..."

That small square plastic thing he accidentally kicked some hours ago, it was the CD case. ("_How was I supposed to know the bloody thing would scratch?_)

Arthur collapses into his chair. He tilts his head back and stares absent mindedly at the ceiling. As the shock and panic slowly wear off, he can't help but laugh at his behavior. All of that fretting, and for what? Personality files! It's nothing to worry about. He won't even bother telling Kiku about it. Sure if he asks about it, Arthur would tell him, but it's not as if-

**"DING!"**

Arthur looks at the computer screen.

_Battery fully charged!_

"It's about time." Arthur says. He unplugs one end of the cord from the outlet and removes the other end from the back of the unit. "Now how do you turn this..." He trails off as he notices a strange tuft of hair curling upwards. "I'm certain it wasn't like that before." He says more so to himself. "Oi! You! What are you doing up there?" Arthur brings his hand up and flicks the odd gravity defying hairs.

The DSU's eyes snap open!

The sudden action startles Arthur. He stumbles backwards, tripping over his feet.

The DSU stares dumbly ahead for a moment before looking around the room. His (_"Her! Dammit! HER!"_) eyes dilating and constricting, taking in the scenery and adjusting to the light simultaneously. Finally those eyes of an infinite sky settle on Arthur and a stellar smile forms on the very same lips that entranced him before. "Hello Master! My name is Alfred! How may I serve you?"

...

...

...facepalm.

* * *

**A/N:** I am so sorry for not updating sooner. I lost my beta and had to get a new one. At least it happened pretty early in the fic. I mean, can you imagine getting to like chapter 12 or something and having to get a new beta? That would have been awful. Thanks for not giving up on me though. And don't forget to review :)


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

**Synthetic Love Chapter 5**

It's strange being activated. The world is no longer endless space, binary codes, and data. Rather, it is color, sound and movement. Well, data is still a large part of the world of activation. Only instead of pouring over stored data, Alfred can feel his datamatrix filling with data. His database is constantly activating, deactivating and stimulating various codes and programs, some he did not know he had!

The strangest part of being activated however, is his Master. What a strange man he is! Alfred cannot understand why his Master's cheeks glow red. It really does concern him (_"Is Master sick?"_), but whenever he tries to help, Master refuses and the redness intensifies. Alfred also notices that his Master has a hard time speaking. The poor man can't get through even one sentence without stumbling over his words or running them together until they become a high-pitched slur of indecipherable syllables.

Alfred knows that he is a Domestic Service Unit, created and programmed to clean and maintain Master's property and to obey Master as much as his code will allow him but there are some things Master has ordered of him that he does not understand. What is "_laundry_"? How does one _"cook"_? What does Master's cat look like? And how do you feed it? Alfred really wishes that he knew more, or maybe Master could have been a bit more specific. Unfortunately, Master has to leave for _"work"_ and Master's son must attend this thing or place called _"primary school"_ so Alfred will need to figure some things out on his own.

"How hard can Master's orders be anyway?"

* * *

The first (and only) room Alfred has seen is the study, so that's the first room he decides to clean. And what a mess it is! Papers are scattered about in every direction! Books are stacked into wobbly piles! The bookshelf is in a dusty disarray! The curtains are covered with dust, dirt, pollen, allergens and who knows what else! How Master has ever gotten anything done in this chaotic room is a mystery!

"I suppose Master would want me to get rid of these papers first." Alfred says to himself. He walks around picking up piles and stray leaves of paper. There's so much, they start to spill out of his arms! As Alfred sits on the floor to gather the fallen papers, he is distracted by a sudden and deep "meow". Alfred looks up.

An orange and white Scottish Fold is sitting by the door. His intense green eyes study Alfred meticulously and the dark and thick patches of fur above his eyes furrow with contempt.

Alfred smiles. "Hello! You must be Master's cat, Launcelot."

Launcelot snorts.

"I guess cats can't talk, huh?"

Launcelot blinks. The indifferent feline strolls into the room, sweeping his tail, slowly making his way to the center of the room where he decidedly plants his rump on a leaf of paper. He turns back to Alfred, looking upon him with contempt, and curls into a tight little ball, wrapping his tail about him and nuzzling his nose and cheeks into his paws.

Alfred, oblivious of any scornful attitude, crawls to Launcelot with papers still in his grasp. "I guess I missed this one. Thanks Launcey!" He moves to grab the paper from underneath Launcelot but is immediately stopped with a swift strike of claws to his outstretched hand. He gasps. "Launcey!"

"_Hiss~!_"

"But I need that!" Alfred whines. "Master expects his entire house to be clean. I can't leave even one scrap of paper on the floor. It's against my programming!"

Launcelot glares and growls in response.

Alfred sets aside the papers he already has and reaches with both hands for Launcelot's precious paper. "If I could just...have...the _paper_!" he grunts out between tugs. As he pulls, Launcelot digs his claws into the paper and floor, squirming and hissing, his tail thrashing in anger. Neither side refuses to give in and they even resort to name calling and dishing out insults toward one another. As they pull and swat and fuss at each other, the very piece of wood pulp that they're fighting over tears in two with a sudden and sharp, "_rip!_"

Startled by the noise, Launcelot flattens his ears and hisses at the half sheet in Alfred's hands as he backs away from the other half. Seizing the opportunity, Alfred swipes the other half and clutches both pieces to his chest. "Ha!" He shouts. Alfred sticks his tongue out and waves both pieces madly. "Now I have both pieces! See?"

Launcelot's face reverts back to a look of haughty disdain and as if refusing to acknowledge that Alfred is the winner of their brawl (if you could call it one), he flicks his tail and saunters away.

Alfred beams in victory. "Now Master will have a clean study!" However, his elation is short lived for when he turns to pick up the papers he had set aside, there is Launcelot, sprawled out and rolling on the paper mound, occasionally swatting sheets in the air and swishing them about the floor.

He rolls onto his stomach and smirks like the cheeky little bastard he is.

"Oh! Come on!"

* * *

Alfred spends the rest of his morning upstairs cleaning, dusting, tidying, sweeping, mopping, washing, scrubbing and vaccuming the curtains, furniture and carpets-everything Master has scheduled into his organizer program. Every now and then his external enviroment sensors would alert him of Launcelot's presence.

Damn cat...

But Alfred tries not to cause trouble. In fact, as the day wore on, Alfred would stop whatever he had been doing to try to approach the felid.

But Launcelot would have none of that of course! He would bristle, hiss and swipe at Alfred's dress or hands if ever he got too close, then he would saunter off with his head held high and his tail swishing across the floor; a sign of disrespect.

Damn cat...

It isn't until early afternoon that Launcelot becomes more of a help than a hinderance. Using his wi-fi, Alfred finds out that "_laundry_" refers to clothing articles in need of washing and can also refer to the action of washing said articles of clothing. Though he knows what needs to be done, he still has no idea how to do it. He gathers the laundry hampers from Master's and Son-of-Master's bedrooms, but he is completely clueless of what to do wtih them. As he frets about in the upstairs hall, his sensors once again alert him to movement and he looks down to face the ever bothersome cat. He frowns. "What?"

Launcelot stares back with apathy.

"Don't look at me like that." Alfred whines. His distress causes one of his involuntary programs to activate and as a result he feels a stinging in his eyes and on his cheeks. "It's not my fault! Master never tought me this _laundry_ business."

Launcelot rolls his eyes at Alfred's incompetence. Seriously, it's not _that_ hard. Those other humans never made such a fuss. Feeling a little pity for this odd, not-quite-human thing and not in the mood to hear any irritating crying sounds, Launcelot decides to help the poor prat out. A scratch in the right place is all it takes. After his claws scrape against one of the clothing baskets, Launcelot wraps his tail around Alfred's leg. He meows in a condescending manner and climbs down the stairs, knowing that Alfred will follow him; though it will probably be more out of curiosity and confusion than out of subordination. (That's right! In Launcelot's world, everyone is beneath him.) Upon reaching the laundry room, and after listening to every "ooh", "ah", and other human sounds that comes frome Alfred's mouth (_"Irksome kit..."_) Launcelot jumps onto one of the cubic machines, the warming one with a door at the front. He taps the top of the other one and, like an obedient kitten, Alfred lifts the lid.

It takes a few minutes but Alfred figures out that he needs to put the clothes in the machine and he does so. He sheepishly smiles at Laucelot, his programs telling him to seek approval but instead of reassurance, Launcelot ignores him in favour of tipping over a small box filled with a powdery substance that his olfactory sensors tell him is mostly sodium triphosphate, sodium dodecylbenzenesulfonate, and a combination of oxidizers.

Launcelot pushes a little button that starts the machine. He taps the lid again, signaling Alfred to close it and he does just so...

* * *

Rough...

If anyone had asked Arthur how his day had been, he would say, "Rough" and leave it at that. But _rough_ could mean anything! _Rough _could mean, "I overslept and in a rush to not be late, I ran out the house without my glasses and had to rely on other people to be my eyes." _Rough_ could mean, "I spent the entire day wondering if I left the door unlocked or left some appliance on..." _Rough_ might not be very serious either, it could mean, "I got a paper cut and it annoyed me all day!" Of course if anyone had asked, and if anyone had received such a reply, they would probably assume that it was the short answer for, "I'm a single father with a spoilt, recalcitrant son and a demanding career. How do you think my day has been?" And though that is usually Arthur's definition of "_rough_", today the word takes on a different meaning.

Today, in Arthur's point of view, _rough_ means that ever since the early morning hours, even before the sun blessed his part of the world, his thoughts have been gravitating around one thought: the cute ("_He's not cute! Not at all cute!_") maid boy in his house.

All through the day, whenever he was alone, his mind would remind him of the thing waiting for him at home. His thoughts are not perverted or full of romanticized fantasies; instead he switches between mentally berating himself for handling the situation so tactlessly and wondering why Kiku would give him a cross-dressing DSU.

Unable to trust himself to be alone or unoccupied, Arthur rushed through his day without taking a break, not even for lunch. When three o'clock rolled around, he left to pick up Peter from school and go home. But as he strides to his house, with a huffy Peter in tow, he wonders if coming straight home was a good idea for when he opens the door, the DSU is there with a bright and sincere smile. And when he chirps, "Welcome home, Master!", Arthur becomes the same nervous and embarrassed fool that he was this morning.

And as if the atmosphere isn't awkward enough, Peter _has _to make things worse by giving his two cents, "Silly Arthur, you hired a _boy_ nanny! Hahahahaha!"

* * *

**A/N:** I know it's short but I decided to split the chapter in two so that the flow wouldn't seem so rushed.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

**Synthetic Love  
Chapter 6**

_Pffffffffffffffffffffffffftt~!_

Arthur sighs and sets the fire extinguisher on the kitchen floor. With shaking hands, he runs his fingers through his hair while miraculously managing to not tear any strands out. The fire is gone but dark, thick, and malodorous smoke still lingers in the air. Arthur moves from the smoldering oven to open one of the windows and let in some desperately needed fresh air. He leans out into the crisp evening air, inhaling sweet oxygen while his adrenaline rush dwindles. Now that he is no longer panicking, Arthur becomes very aware of his heart drumming wildly in his ears and of the gelatinous feeling in his joints.

It has been a couple of years since a fire was in the Kirkland kitchen and Arthur had not been looking forward to another one. Luckily, he was able to put it out before it got too out of control.

There is another fire however, one that cannot be extinguished with pressurized soapy foam, kindling in Arthur's veins. Now that his shock and worry are gone, there is plenty of energy to fuel the flames of fury eating him up inside. Arthur curls his hands into fists and clenches his teeth as his stress and anger reaches a level never experienced before! With a hiss, Arthur turns to address the obtuse culprit.

"First it was my office..." Arthur has many rules for those under his roof and one of those rules is, "_Never enter his study without permission._" Arthur prefers to clean his study himself in order to prevent exactly what happened today: documents being misplaced and thrown away.

"Next it was my laundry..." Arthur seethes at the recently formed memory of leaving his pilfered study only to discover a puddle spilling into the hall from the laundry room. What he had thought to be an unfortunate spill or leak was actually an avalanche of soap and suds, waiting to topple and bury the first curious sucker (which happened to be himself) to open the door.

"And now, my kitchen..." After finally breaking free from the slippery suds, Arthur's plan was to dry off and change clothes but a cry from the kitchen had distracted him and upon entering said kitchen, Arthur was horrified to see flames flickering from the mouth of his oven!

A slight stinging of pain distracts Arthur from his thoughts. As he looks down to his reddening, white-knuckled, and shaking fists, he realises that for the good of his image and health, he needs to calm down. _"Deep breaths,"_ he tells himself. With each exhale, his muscles relax (slightly) and his fingers unfurl. "It's only one mistake," he whispers (_"One mistake that adds to who knows how many"_).

This incident probably would have ended with a mild scolding followed by, "...and don't let this happen again" but any hope for such flies out of the window when poor, unsuspecting Alfred pulls a large, lumpy, charcoal-like mass topped with foam out of the oven and proudly proclaims, "I did it! That was easier that I thought it would be."

Arthur explodes in rage! The searing heat of his anger rushes his blood to his head and extremities, causing his skin to appear a fiery crimson. Whistling and steam hisses from his ears and if Alfred had known what a teapot was, he probably would have likened his master to one.

"You impossibly dense _twat_!" roars Arthur. "How someone- no, some_THING_ so _expensive_ can manage to fuck up so much in a single day is _beyond_ baffling!" As Arthur continues to rant, his foot stomps, his fists clench and cling stiffly to his sides, and with each word his voices rises in both volume and pitch. "You sodding, over glorified appliance!" Arthur barely makes sense anymore as the hastily hurled insults slur together. His face continues to redden for he refuses to pause long enough to effectively breathe. Of course, the act backfires on him and after using the word "_bleeding_" for the umpteenth time, he finally runs out of oxygen.

Hyperventilation has a strange effect on the human body. It can cause numbness, light-headedness, headaches, chest pains, spasms, and sometimes fainting. While hyperventilation does reduce the blood's concentration of carbon dioxide, the act itself constricts blood vessels, thus reducing blood flow and the circulation of oxygen to the brain. In Arthur Kirkland's case, the wooziness brought on by his hyperventilating chokes off the flames of his anger, forcing him to cease his shouting, sit at the breakfast nook and calm down.

The kitchen is plunged into silence...

Arthur expects an equally loud and anger-fueled rebuttal, as custom dictates. After all, had this conversation been with any of his relatives, his ex-wife, co-workers, or any disgruntled former employees, objects both fragile and infragile would be flying through the air along with nonsensical defense claims, clumsy accusations, and spiteful slurs. With Alfred though, there is nothing; nothing but the beating of Arthur's heart and the ringing in his ears. But even those fade into soundless nothing. Perhaps it is the eerie quiet or perhaps it is the slowly diminishing dizzy spell, either way Arthur experiences the stomach swirling feeling of embarrassment as he briefly wonders if Alfred has left. With his breathing returning to normal and oxygen rushing back to his brain, Arthur quickly realises how immature his outburst was. "For crying out loud, I'm bickering with a bloody machine," he grumbles not-to-quietly. "The neighbors must think I've gone daft."

The shattering sound of what can only come from the recently used porcelain baking dish distracts Arthur from being able to voice more thoughts. He turns to the source of the sound, his (in his opinion) incompetent DSU, Alfred.

Unable to handle his master's temper, (and unable to fully understand the hurtful words that were flung at him) Alfred's stress program activates. It is designed to act as an alarm should he ever find himself lost or in danger, and can also work as a warning should he ever be overloaded with indecipherable data. His eyes glow a brilliant blue with numbers flashing in descending order from five to one. Unfortunately, Alfred bows his head in shame and submission, preventing his master from seeing the glowing numbers counting down to chaos.

_5..._

Arthur sneers at the android maid.

_4..._

His eyes fall to the android's feet where the remains of the dish and its contents have fallen.

_3..._

He notices that one piece has a pink carnation painted on it and sighs. "That was a wedding gift..."

_2..._

He shrugs it off with an, "Oh well, it's high time I got rid of that thing."

_1..._

Arthur opens his mouth and takes a deep breath, ready to issue commands to clean up this mess when-

_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

Alfred snaps his head up and emits a loud, high-pitched wail, forcing Arthur to cover his ears and clench his teeth. Arthur tries shouting over the scream, but his words are lost amongst the infinite shriek. Unwilling to test the limits of his sanity or his eardrums, Arthur rushes out of the kitchen. On his way to retrieve his Owner's Manual to see what's wrong with his android, he stumbles into another chaotic scene.

"_FIRE_!" Peter leaps down the stairs, his tiny legs skipping over every other step. His arms flail wildly in the air as various fire safety PSAs and last year's field trip to the local fire department scramble through his mind. "_Stop, drop, and rooooooooll_!"

"Calm down, Peter!" Arthur yells over the other voices. "There is no fire!"

Peter stops and looks to his father with panicked expression round face; his thick eyebrows rising as if to hide in his hairline. "Then why is the alarm going off?"

"That's not an alarm, it's...well..." Arthur is unsure of how to answer the question. Without the Owner's Manual, the only thing Arthur can deduce is that his DSU must be malfunctioning which he can't exactly tell Peter since the six-year-old doesn't know that his new nanny is an android. Before he is able to conjure an excuse for the siren-like wail, Peter comes to a (rather reasonable) conclusion of his own.

"Were you trying to cook again?"

Arthur stiffens after hearing the (perfectly legitimate) question. The question itself and the tone it was asked in is fairly innocent, but the implications behind it, whether intentional or not, irks Arthur and adds on to the day's frustrations. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Peter leans closer to the kitchen and takes a few sniffs. When the familiar scent of smoke jets into his nostrils, he quickly recoils and covers his crinkling nose. "Well, it smells like you were trying to cook again. I thought you hired a nanny to do that."

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose and grumbles. He does not need to have this conversation, especially with Alfred's screeching echoing in his ears, and with his slightly charred yet mostly damp clothes mockingly serving as silent reminders of this awful day. "Peter, I _really_ do not feel like dealing with your disrespectful attitude." As Arthur walks past Peter to his study, he gently nudges the boy in the direction of the sitting room. "Something came up and I need to take care of it. Why don't you go watch anime or something?" As Arthur walks past Peter to his study, he gently nudges the boy in the direction of the sitting room.

"You can't just walk away from me like that you jerk! You were trying to cook again weren't you?!" When he is answered by the sound of the study door closing, Peter turns away. "Tch!" Peter scowls as he heads for the sitting room, his facial muscles straining with each step. He honestly does plan on watching some television programs. With his homework complete, dinner on hold and no one to play with, he needs something to do to pass the time; but after turning on the television, Peter doesn't bother to pay attention to whatever is on the screen. Instead, he flops onto the couch, stares at the ceiling and sighs. "Something always comes up..."

* * *

The rest of the night passes without any more excitement. After ordering takeout, Arthur shuts Alfred up by turning him off for the night and plugging him into a kitchen wall socket. Peter is surprisingly quiet and obedient; he doesn't fuss when bathtime and bedtime come around, much to Arthur's relief. Of course, there is still so much to do before Arthur can retire for the night. The laundry room needs to be mopped, the laundry itself needs to dry, be folded and put away, the kitchen needs to be cleaned, and then there is the matter of reorganizing the study; misplaced documents need to be found and the books need to be properly categorized again.

Needless to say, it is well past midnight before Arthur finally drags himself to his bedroom. Arthur flops onto his bed and pulls out his cellphone. He presses number three on his speed dial and waits...

* * *

Kiku sighs as he listens to the grumpy voice on the other end of the line. "I am sorry that you had to experience such a problematic day." He says once there is a moment of silence. "However, DSUs are only programmed with the knowledge basic cleaning. When it comes to complicated tasks like organizing, you must be very specific about what you want and some tasks, such as cooking, must be taught over a period of time before a DSU is able to fully understand it. Didn't you read the Owner's Manual?" Immediately Kiku regrets those choice of words, as the voice, now louder and laced with irritation buzzes in his ear. "Forgive me, Arthur-san. I did not mean to insult you...Perhaps, when you get the chance, you should read the manual again...It's fine. Oyasuminasai, Arthur-san." After bidding his friend goodnight, Kiku hurries back to his host and temporary boss. "Forgive me for my rude interruption, Mrs. Zwingli. I will be sure to keep my phone on silent from now on."

Mrs. Zwingli is a woman in her early forties, desperately clinging onto youth if her processed hair and over-botoxed face has anything to say about her. "It's fine, phone calls happen." She says as she leads him to the backyard. "It's probably better this way. Lili should be outside by now and, to be honest, I would much rather show you the problem than try to explain. There simply are no words to describe the malfunction."

Mr. Zwingli is one of SynTech's most important shareholders, so when his wife reported a "strange malfunction" of one of their custom-made security units, SynTech sent one of their best command software designers to fix the problem.

"Lili? Is that what you have named the unit?"

"Oh no, Lili is my daughter. The unit was never given an actual name and usually responded to SW1-55. It was designed with Lili's security to be its top priority, so naturally the two are always together, but now...Well, see for yourself." The two made it outside just in time to see two blondes smiling and spinning around under the morning sun.

The smaller one, Lili, seems normal and as happy as a little girl ought to be, but the SW1-55 unit...

Normally owners keep their Security Warden Units in the uniforms they come with and the units are designed with neutral facial expressions and rigid emotion simulators in order to make them more intimidating and "soldier-like", which is why Kiku is shocked (and pleasantly amused) to see this unit twirling around in a red and white dress and apron as a red ribbon bounces in its hair.

With ninja-like speed, Kiku whips out his camera and snaps a few pictures. It isn't everyday that Kiku is able to see something so cute and bizarre, and he must have some pictures!

"Do you see what I mean?" scoffs Mrs. Zwingli. "I hope you can fix it. I would hate to dispose of something with so expensive."

* * *

In a world of their own, Lili starts to sing sweetly...

"_O Vreneli, my pretty one, pray tell me where's your home~?_"

...in a surprisingly good voice, the SW1-55 unit answers...

"_My home it is in Switzerland, 'tis made of wood and stone~!  
My home it is in Switzerland, 'tis made of wood and stone~!_"

...and together they sing the chorus.

_Yo! Ho! Ho, tra-la-la!  
Yo ho ho, tra-la-la!  
Yo ho ho! Tra-la-la!  
Yo ho ho! Tra-la-la!  
Yo! Ho! Ho, tra-la-la!  
Yo ho ho, tra-la-la!  
Yo ho ho, tra la la la!  
Yo ho ho~!_

* * *

**A/N: **Here's the next chapter. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I mean, my beta was unable to get in contact with me, so I am somewhat nervous about posting this. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and reviews would be most helpful.

**Attention!** For those who haven't seen my profile, I do post snippets concerning updates of my fic. Such as, how far along a chapter is, when it's done and being sent to my beta, when I edit/post it, and things like that. Right now my profile mentions that chapter 6 of _Synthetic Love_ has been posted, but there is also information concerning another fic, one that I hope you will be on the look out for, _The Monster of Notre Dame_. If you are curious, just scroll up to the top and click on my pen name. Thank you :)


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